Mother’s Day: Celebration or reflection?

Mother’s Day is coming up, and mothers everywhere are waking up in fear. Caught between adorable starry-eyed children with the breakfast in bed, and fear of the disaster they have left in their wake.

Ok. It’s not that bad. But it’s funny to think about, right? This issue of the ECHO Magazine shows motherhood from a few different perspectives.

My children are older now, so the disasters are somewhat limited. We are able to avoid breakfast in bed by making reservations at Bear Mountain Grill and eating our fill at the buffet. Other than that, Mother’s Day is kind of like any other day at my house; there is fighting, cooking and cleaning.

I’m not sure if Mother’s Day is meant to be more of a celebration of or a reflection on motherhood. As I shuffle through the daily minutiae of being a mom, I hardly feel like I should be celebrated. Most of the time I’m just doing the best I can and hoping they turn out alright!

When I stop and take a closer look, I can see who they are becoming. They are kind, generous and good to their friends. I’m grateful for my kids – not just that I have kids, but that I have THESE kids – they are my favorite.

What’s your Alaska Story?

Alaska is something special. Inside this issue, you will find stories about what makes Alaska special to our writers. How they got here, why they stay, and what it means to them to be a part of our Alaska.

The spring I turned 24 I drove the AlCan. It was March. It was cold, and the road was far worse than I had imagined. About eight hours into the trip, a rock kicked up, hit the trailer containing everything I owned, and broke out the back window of my new-used Jeep. Duct tape and plastic trash bags covered the hole for the next 1900 miles.

I don’t remember much from the drive. I remember not being able to shut off my car when I pumped gas, I remember my doors froze shut. I remember staying in the “hotel” at the only hotel/bar/laundry/gas station/truck stop for what seemed like 1000 miles.

Lived in Anchorage and worked for Internet Alaska. After a while, I was invited to join a startup called FortNocs, also in Anchorage. The startup failed, but I took it as a win since I got my husband, Brian, out of the deal. After the startup failure, jobs took us to Colorado, my home state and away from Alaska. In Colorado, we bought a house and had a baby. But Brian missed Alaska. It wasn’t long before we headed back.

I didn’t love Alaska right away. I fought against the long winter and the bright summer; I fought Alaska because of perceived limitations and isolation. I denied her beauty, majesty, and possibility.

We lived in East Anchorage, in a nice neighborhood. I was happy being a mom to our son, but I was not happy in Alaska. Like many people who come to Alaska, I was actually pretty seriously depressed.

Then finally it happened. Everything changed. We moved from Anchorage to Eagle River, and I didn’t have to fight against Alaska anymore. Our little greenhouse with red trim on Firehouse Lane felt like home. I made some amazing friends. I fell in love with Eagle River. I fell in love with Alaska.

Alaska is more like a person than a place. You have to know her to love her. You have to be patient with her and allow her to show you everything she can be. You have to accept her as she is, the good with the bad.